


Eclogue

by Taz



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:57:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taz/pseuds/Taz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iphicles shares his thoughts with his god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eclogue

                -- Because of what happened two days ago? I know Ajax was a war hero but I thought you were on the Trojan side.

                -- You were. Then why...

                -- Let me get this straight; you're going to kill me, because Herc and I...we... It's not about Ajax.

                -- Hades, no! I wish he had. I thought, maybe Iolaus... Does Herc know you feel...

                -- Then you can't blame...

                -- You can. Of course you can.

                -- Yes, I understand your position. Just skip the lectures; I get a nose full of that from him. I made my living for twenty years selling my sword so don't sidle around to it like a wolf on a sheep fold. If you're going to do it, make it quick.

                -- Yeah, he probably will...you'll never hear the end of it. Tough luck. But that almost makes it worthwhile.

                By the way, have you considered how my death will destabilize the entire peninsula? Athens has been looking for an excuse to station troops on this side of the isthmus...

                -- I didn't think so.

                -- Yes, it would be for me too.

                -- I can try. Peace isn't such a bad deal. Farmers stay at home and grow food. Farmwives brew beer and weave cloth. It all gets sold or traded for money to buy pots and iron work and new ideas and swords from the potters and the blacksmiths and the people with new ideas for growing food and brewing and killing each other. And then they all pay the taxes to support the army -- you've got to like how it all goes around. To everything there is a season, a time for war and a time for peace, a time for lo--

                -- Ouch! Watch where you're aiming those things. You said a good reason not to kill me...

                -- Sorry. You don' t need more lectures either. He can't help it, you know, Mother raised him to be good. He really does believe in things like compassion and forgiveness and sharing and...

                -- I didn't think so.

                -- Nope. Me neither.

                I've always felt kind of sorry about that, but one thing I'm not sorry about is Ajax. I know he used to be a big hero back in the day and all. And I heard how he went nuts from the humiliation after claiming Achilles' armor -- seeing it awarded to Odysseus. But even the Trojans said Odysseus did more damage to them than he did. I know about humiliation. Life is a crapshoot with loaded dice. You have to learn to take it.

                -- No, I didn't mean you. Don't get your leathers in a twist. 

                They put me in the captain's cabin when it was over. I was bruised and had a broken leg. Hercules gave me a cup of wine. I don't know what was in it but I spent the voyage home from Golgoth dreaming I was back on the farm in my own bed. Bastard. I could feel the hand-planed wood under my fingers, Mother's cool linen sheets against my thighs. I even thought I could hear the creak of that loose board her foot used to tap while she was spinning or rocking the baby's cradle. Maybe that's why it happened -- all those bucolic memories.

                I was completely out of it until I woke up with a taste in my mouth like I'd been sucking the wool sock some Spartan hoplite had worn for a month. My leg ached like you would not believe and I was the one being rocked. The creaking noise was the timbers of Nebula's ship; I could hear what must have been the surf breaking off Triton's Point. Is there a god of mercy?

                -- I didn't think so. If there was, the first thing I'd have seen when I opened my eyes on that stinking ship wouldn't have been Hercules. Nebula. Or Iolaus. I owe both of them my life and I might have managed to be graceful about it. But with you gods, it's always justice or honor, so when I got my eyes unstuck, the first thing I saw was our perfect little brother. He'd probably been sitting there the entire voyage, watching me twitch. I was sick.

                -- I mean, I was seasick -- perfection was there to hold the bucket while I puked up my toenails.

                -- Yeah. That's a point and I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to think about it on the other side.

                I was shaking like an aspen while he dumped the bucket. He offered me something to drink. I told him it better only be wine this time. Croaking like a frog. My hand was over his on the cup and I felt it quiver so I knew he'd been thinking of  drugging me again -- for my own good of course -- but he said it wasn't and he doesn't lie.

                The wine was Thessalian red; even though it gave me a couple of bad moments, I kept it down and it settled my stomach. I don't know what pirates eat, but they have nothing but the best in drink. Then I closed my eyes and pretended one of us wasn't there, hoping he'd take the hint.

                -- Herakles means 'thick as a plank' in Old Doric? Well, that's one thing we agree on. He just crouched by the bunk. Finally, I demanded to know what Nebula was waiting for.

                -- The tide, he said, it's too dangerous to try and go around the point before morning. I'm sorry. He sounded sorry.

                -- I snapped, Why? and sounded as irritable as I felt.

                -- They're probably concerned back in Corinth.

                Concerned? The king's kidnapped by a bunch of ragged-ass Trojan War veterans -- they were 'probably' going out of their fucking minds back in Corinth.

               -- Kazon's shitting olive pits.

Herc just snorted. They can't stand each other. I don't know why -- both of them act like they've got a spear shaft shoved up their butt sometimes. My security chief 's your basic rear echelon dick-head but unlike some people, he does his job without arguing with me.

                -- I'm not boasting. That was a metaphor! (At least not Kazon, for Zeussake!)

                -- What? Nothing. The royal ass was naked under the sheet and I didn't remember undressing. I told Herc to find my pants. He told me he'd had to cut them off to strap up my leg properly and I thought, damn, that could've been the best sex of my life and I missed it. I said, Find me something to wear.

                -- There's no one your size on board, he said

                -- Except you. I'm  the king, so take off your pants.

                -- I'm not giving you my pants. And I'm not letting you up out of that bunk. If you try it, I'll sit on

you.

                -- Do it, I dared him.

                -- What's with you?

                -- I have to piss.

                -- Why didn't you say so.

                -- That's right, he held the bucket for me again. While I did what I had to, he looked away to give me that much privacy and he didn't know it but I was imagining him back in my rooms in Corinth, kneeling in front of me, wearing nothing but a collar and holding a gold chamber pot. I could see him kneeling there with his head bowed, all golden himself in the candlelight and grateful to be serving his king.

                -- Yeah, fat chance. You're smiling.

                -- Often. He's my favorite imaginary body slave. In my mind, when I was done, I let him lick me clean. I stroked his hair the way you would a cat's while he cleaned me. His cock was swollen, and I got hard looking at him, then I fucked that sweet mouth, but I made him wait...Hades, my leg was killing me. Even here in Corinth, I don't piss in a silver pot much less gold one, but it was a good fantasy and I made a note to save it for a chilly night. He asked if I wanted something for the pain. And I wondered, if he knew that, did he know...I said, No, how long are we going to be stuck here?

                -- A couple more hours, he said.

                -- Shit.

                He pulled up the cover and tucked it around me.

                -- I patted his hand and said, Stay just as sweet as you are, you'll make someone a wonderful wife, and he slunk back to his chair. He's never been able to hide it when I deliberately try to hurt him.

                For a while, we both pretended I'd gone back to sleep.

                Then I peeked.

                He'd found a scroll and I watched him read. It was  hot and he'd taken his shirt off. His chest was glossy with sweat. If you've seen his skin by candlelight, you know how the aureoles are that soft rose-brown color. I couldn't take my eyes off of his nipples; they looked like little beads. I imagined rolling my tongue over them while he squirmed. Then I tried imagining him with his neck chained to my bed, on his knees, ass in the air while I...sighed and gave up; my leg was throbbing too badly. I asked him, What are you reading.

                -- I don't know. It's about a Sumerian king and his friend.

                -- Where'd you find that?

                -- In Nebula's sea chest.

                -- You're going to get in trouble for snooping. Tell me the story.

                He wasn't sure I wasn't mocking him but he told me about this king, Gilgamish, who had a friend named Enkidu that he loved like a brother.

                -- They go on adventures together.

                -- Like you and Iolaus, I said. His lip quirked.

                -- No, they kill a bull that belongs to a god.

                -- Like you and Iolaus, I insisted. That time, he laughed. You can see why I thought maybe... Never mind.

                -- But then Enkidu gets killed. Gilgamish goes to find a flower that can bring him back to life. But while he's bringing it to the underworld, he falls asleep and a snake eats the flower. That's as far as I've gotten.

                -- I said, That's sad, but if Gilgamish loved Enkidu like a brother, I expect he got over it. But I was wondering if Gilgamish did Enkidu the way I imagine doing him. I don't know what was going on in Herc's mind. I said, If Ajax hadn't kidnapped me, who would you have backed?

                -- He said, You.

                -- Because I was right?

                -- Iphicles, nobody was right...

                I lost my temper then and started yelling. The bastard would get drunk and start fights. He was always in people's faces telling them how Patrocolus died and the noble Achilles slew Hector. But he never mentioned that it was Achilles desecrating Hector's body by dragging it around the city walls that blew any chance for an armistice. The war lasted seven years longer because...

                -- I know, you don't need a history lesson either--especially that one. And Ajax was abusive to women, calling them cunts and bitches, saying the war was a woman's fault. And agitating that the state owed the vets more. Whatever it was, the pensions weren't large enough, the lands open to settlement in the North weren't good enough, the monument Corinth had already put up wasn't important enough. I freed the last of the Trojan slaves; he said I'd betrayed all the men who'd ever fought for Greece and didn't deserve to be king. He buddied up to that jerk who tried to take the throne from Jason and that was when the real trouble started.

                -- I know, Hercules said, he never got over the war.

                Damn it, he's infuriating! He'd support me, not because I'm the king or because I'm his brother or

because he lo- ...No, just because I wasn't as wrong as some shell-shocked idiot! Did he think I sent those men to Golgoth out of pique? My wife died in childbirth and, for Zeussake! I couldn't be there to kiss her farewell on her last journey because I'd been putting down a riot... my conscience poked me at that point; conditions in the prisons are my responsibility.

                Guilt sucks.

                I decided to go back to sleep and pretend I'd gotten him drunk. He was on his back with his legs thrown over my shoulders. I was bending over and I could see  my cock sliding in and out of his ass. I was telling him what a perfect cunt he was and how much I hated him while I reamed him. Do you talk dirty to him?

                -- I just wondered. Does he like it? I'd tasted the wine on his lips and he was whispering Fuck me, Iphicles, fuck me, over and over. I almost didn't hear when he actually said 'Iphicles.'

                -- I snapped, 'What,' pissed because he'd interrupted the one daydream I'd been able to get past the pain.

                -- He said, When Deineria died, I tried to destroy every shrine and temple of Hera's I could find. I wound up just making life harder for the people who had to rebuild them.

                I suppose that was his way of saying we had something in common. I could see tears in his eyes. We were only a few feet apart. Either one of us could have touched the other. I don't know. I was on my way from the losing side of a war in Macedonia when I got Mother's letter about Deineria and the children. I didn't write; I didn't know what to say. I did now.

                I don't know why, but I started telling him how when I was five, Father came home when Mother was pregnant with him. He just looked at me dumbly. I don't blame him; it was ancient history.

                See, it hadn't taken the old man long to figure out that, even though she swore it was him, she had to have gotten that bun in her oven from some other baker. Herc just kept looking at me while I told  him how Father had built a pyre in the yard and tied her to it. She was begging for her life when he set it on fire. I tried to run and help her but he had me by the arm. I screamed and bit him and he started to beat me saying she deserved it because she'd polluted our house. How did he even know I was his? He said it over and over the whole time he was thrashing me.

                -- Herc said, What happened then?

                -- She burned to death, you were never born, and I inherited Father's armor.

                I smiled at him and he turned white.

                -- Do you hate me that much?

                I almost reached to him but he asked what happened again. I told him how the sun had been shining and out of the clear blue sky there was a cloudburst that put the fire out and Father realized she'd been telling the truth; it could only  have been a god who knocked her up. He left. We never saw him again.

                She'd always told him that Amphitrion was killed in the war. Maybe. But we never heard and no one sent his armor home. He could even be alive now. Of course, Herc said Mother never said anything like that to him. All right, he didn't believe me. I was going to tell him to where he could stuff himself, but my leg picked that moment  to play up and I tried to sit.

                -- What's the matter?

                -- Cramp!

                He sat on the bunk, lifted my broken leg onto his lap and started massaging it. After a moment, I lay back and let him. I didn't want to think about why I'd told him--Mother spent a long time pretending it never happened and I spent a long time helping her. Herc was staring through the bulkhead, obviously gone off somewhere in his head trying to fit my story into the pretty picture he has of our sainted parents. His fingers were digging in. Not hard enough to make me scream--that takes more than a little gouging--but hard enough.

                -- He said, Zeus told me he saved my life before I was born.

                -- I suppose Zeus should get the credit, Amphitrion sure didn't pay any attention to me.

                -- You must have been terrified.

                I didn't answer him. He kept working on my leg on beyond the point where he'd eased the knot out of the muscle. I let him; even though it hurt, it felt good. They keep offering me women--as though anyone could replace my wife. It had been a long time since anyone had touched me. He worked his way up my thigh, my leg snuggled against his belly. The curls were tickling my skin and that dark flesh around his nipples was crinkled. There was only a corner of the sheet covering the crown jewels but he kept his eyes on what he was doing. I couldn't feel anything beneath my calf, but that was strapped. Besides, it's all hard under that leather.

                -- He said, Do you remember when you used to do this for me?

                -- No, I said.

                -- When I was thirteen, starting to shoot up, I'd wake up crying. Mother used to say it was growing pains. You'd lose your temper and come over threatening to smother me if I didn't shut  up.

                -- I should've, I said. You were a pest. The top of his head was bobbing slowly up and down.

                -- Sometimes, he said, you'd rub my legs like this? You remember that?

                I remembered I was always boiling with sap back then. Herc was a skinny kid just getting those long legs and I taught him to wrestle in the hayloft. Day and night. We were as randy as goats, butting each other between the thighs.

                That was when my cock came to attention and threw off the camouflage. I grabbed his head and pulled him down. I felt his breath on the tip -- just before he kissed it.

                He kissed it and started rubbing it against his cheek; I could feel the stubble of his  beard and came all over his face. You should have seen him. Nose, lips, eyes: all dripping. And he could have been the one in pain from the way he was crying. When I surged again, he caught the cream in his mouth and that time, I anchored my hands in his hair. I held him and he didn't fight me, just buried his face in my crotch while I stroked his head. At least one of my fantasies came true. I didn't even point out what a mess he'd made.

                Then Iolaus was banging on the door announcing that the tide had turned. The ship had started moving but we hadn't noticed -- feet pounding on the deck over our heads and Nebula screaming at someone to get that yard tied off. It was time to go home and they needed Hercules on deck.

                -- I yelled, He'll be up shortly!

                -- Iolaus said, Uh, okay, and went away. Does he know? No. It'd be all over Greece if he did.

                I scrubbed Herc's face with the sheet and told him, Go; stay upwind, no one will notice. And he was gone. I wished I'd told him to move the bucket closer because after he left and I realized what we'd done, I felt like puking again.

                We sailed into Corinth harbor on the morning tide. It's even more embarrassing to be carried off ship in your brother's arms than it is to be kidnapped. Iolaus was looking at me strangely, Hercules never did say how he explained that stain discoloring his leathers, but everyone else was cheering their heads off and didn't notice a thing.

                It really doesn't hurt that he's my brother... I use it for all it's worth... gives a lot of substance to Corinth's policy of Athenian containment... you should hear ambassadors' eyes click when they figure it out...

                It was just something we'd had, and lost, and found again for a moment. No big deal. I mean, it happened so fast there wasn't even time to undo his leathers. You know how tha...

                -- Oh, all right! He does fuck like an Olympic champion! What are you going to do about it?

                -- He's going to wake up...

                -- Iph...

                -- See.

                -- Iphicles?

                -- You going to kill me or not?

                -- Well?

                -- Iphicles? Where--

                -- Right here, babe. Move over.

                -- Did you need any help?

                -- No, I managed. Over just a little more.

                -- I thought I heard you talking to yourself.

                -- You were dreaming.

                -- Ah...that feels good. Do it again...yes...mmm...that's... Iphicles?

                -- I'm here.

                -- That's not your hand, is it?            

 

 

 

 

_Finis_

26 July 2000


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